


It's Christmastime in the City

by darlingdipierro (orphan_account)



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I'm the worst at writing fluff don't judge, Post-Canon, pretend im not uploading this late, xmas with the dipierros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21972697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/darlingdipierro
Summary: Darlene sighs. “Yeah, well, when I was thinking about making a good impression, I didn’t realize that this would be a part of it. She’s gonna hate me.”“She won’t hate you. Stop freaking out.” She can picture how Elliot must be rolling his eyes right now, his back still facing her.“Easy for you to say. It doesn’t matter if they like you. This is the first time I’m meeting my girlfriend’s entire fucking family. Do you know how many people there are in her family? It’s sick. And there’s a shit ton of kids, too. How the hell am I supposed to act?”----------------Post season 4: Darlene and Elliot's first Christmas with the Dipierros
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 26
Kudos: 122





	It's Christmastime in the City

“Jesus Christ, this is fucking hideous.”

Darlene glares in the mirror at the sweater she’s wearing. She tugs at sleeves, trying to make it more comfortable, itching at her skin where the scratchy fabric is touching it. Nothing works, the outfit only becoming worse and worse the more she messes with it.

“It’s not that bad,” Elliot says from behind her, rummaging through one of his drawers, looking for a shirt that Darlene already knows will be a million times better than the Christmas sweater she’s being forced to wear. She decides that Christmas clothes are one of the worst things capitalism has pushed to date.

“Says the guy who _doesn’t_ have to wear one. God, this is embarrassing. Do you really think Trudie will be mad if I don’t wear it?” She studies herself in the mirror, trying to find something, anything redeeming about it. The sweater was knit by Trudie herself, given to Dom, and then handed off to her, with the instructions to wear it for the holiday—as Trudie had apparently begged for her to. On the sweater is a messy Santa, one she probably wouldn’t be able to make out if it weren’t for the colors. One of his eyes is barely visible. He looks pretty fucking scary, if she’s being honest.

“Yeah, probably,” Elliot replies casually, continuing to search through his drawers. He pulls out a button up, shakes it out before putting his arms through the sleeves. “Maybe not mad, but upset. I thought you wanted to make a good impression?”

Darlene sighs. “Yeah, well, when I was thinking about making a good impression, I didn’t realize that _this_ would be a part of it. She’s gonna hate me.”

“She won’t hate you. Stop freaking out.” She can picture how Elliot must be rolling his eyes right now, his back still facing her.

“Easy for you to say. It doesn’t matter if they like you. This is the first time I’m meeting my girlfriend’s _entire_ fucking family. Do you know how many people there are in her family? It’s sick. And there’s a shit ton of kids, too. How the hell am I supposed to act?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Elliot says, some humor lacing through his voice. Darlene looks away from the mirror, finally facing him. She walks over, shoves his shoulder playfully.

“Thanks for the stellar advice. Promise you’ll help me out if I’m making an idiot of myself? Like, if I am, do something that’s even more idiotic so I can swoop in and stop you. Maybe they’ll think I’m a hero or something.”

Elliot lets out a small laugh, and Darlene’s heart lightens. She still isn’t tired of hearing him laugh, even though he’s been back with her for nearly a year. His laughs are still rare, but more common now, his voice carrying less weight, similar to when they were kids. She can sense the pain in him still, the process of healing continuing to takeplace, but there’s hope there.

She wants to tell him this, considers doing it for a moment. To remind him how much she missed him, even though she does it all the time, to the point where he has to tell her to stop, _I know, Darlene. I get it. I missed you too._

(She still doesn’t get sick of telling him.)

Before she can get any words out, though, there’s a knock at Elliot’s front door. Darlene tenses, the sound ringing out like a death bell. She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

“You gonna get that?” Elliot asks with a smile, giving her a reassuring nod. Darlene nods back, takes a deep breath, goes to the door.

When she opens it, she finds Dom on the other side—wearing an equally shitty handmade Christmas sweater courtesy of Trudie, a reindeer on this one, similarly terrifying to Darlene’s Santa. Still, the sight of Dom calms her, brings some sort of peace to her mind. This would be okay. This would be okay. Even if she fucked up, Dom wouldn’t be mad, at least not for too long.

“Hey,” Dom says, steps inside, gives Darlene a quick kiss. Darlene smiles into it, still not used to the feeling it sends through her body every time, the rush to her heart, the light happiness she feels. They’ve been together—really together—for just over six months, now. Dom had come back from Budapest in May, hadn’t even let Darlene know she was returning until she landed. Darlene remembers looking down at her phone when it lit up with Dom’s name, answering it hurriedly, Dom’s voice, _Hey, um, so, I’m kinda back in the city. At the airport. And I just realized I don’t have a ride home, or any money that isn’t Hungarian. Could you come pick me up?_

(Darlene had chastised her, had pretended to be annoyed that Dom didn’t tell her sooner, but secretly, she loved the surprise, the way she instantly felt at home again, at peace, where she was supposed to be, Dom by her side. They began hanging out nearly every day, and in June, Dom had fumbled her way through asking her to be “official”. Darlene had laughed and shut her up with a kiss, answering her question.)

Dom looks her up and down, her lips pursed, her eyes trying—and failing—to remain neutral. “You look, um—really good.”

Darlene laughs, looks down at her sweater, which somehow seems to have gotten even uglier. “Jeez. Thanks.”

“You look beautiful. It’s just—“

“The corpse Santa that I’m being forced to wear?”

Dom smiles, lets out a small laugh. “It’ll mean a lot to her. Trust me, she hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

Darlene feels some of the nervousness leave her now, knowing that this will at least score her some points with Trudie. She nods, reaches down to grab Dom’s hand.

Elliot appears at her side, finally finished with putting his outfit on. He nods to Dom, gives her a small smile and a quick ‘hello’. Dom says the same back. Darlene smiles to herself—she loves seeing them interact in any way, regardless of how few the words. They get along quite well, actually—they have a lot more in common that she assumes either would have expected, and both enjoy getting on Darlene’s nerves, which seems to help.

Darlene looks at Dom, meets her gaze, holds it for a second. “So. We doing this?”

Dom nods, pulling her towards the door. “Come on.”

……………………..

The first thing Darlene takes note of when she walks into the Dipierro house is how… _normal_ it is. She’s not sure what else to call it. An average suburban home, covered in Christmas decorations, the sound of kids screaming joyfully as they chase one another around, nearly knocking over a vase. One of Dom’s aunts chastising them for it. Is this what it’s like on Christmas when you have an actual family?

(Truth be told, Darlene is nervous for more reasons than meeting Dom’s family. She remembers last year, the pain all three of them had to endure, seeing Dom being hurt, over and over, the guilt she felt, the misery Dom was going through, everything she had done—)

“You okay?” Dom’s voice is gentle, pulling Darlene out of her reverie. She looks at her, trying to come back to herself. It was over. It was all over. The Dark Army was gone, they were safe, they didn’t have to be afraid anymore. Her family was in a new house, even, the FBI having deemed it unsafe to stay at their old home, despite the Dark Army no longer being a threat. Dom gives her a small smile—she understands, Darlene thinks. She feels the same fear, the same trepidation. They can do this. They can do this _together._

“Yeah,” Darlene says, giving a reassuring nod.

(Maybe she’s terrified because she knows she’s the first girl Dom has brought home in god knows how long, too. She tries not to dwell on that too much.)

Elliot nudges her shoulder, tilts his head, nodding towards the woman approaching them. Darlene knows it’s Trudie without having to ask—she’s wearing an equally ugly handmade sweater, this one with a snowman on it.

Dom reaches down, squeezes her hand. “You’ve got this,” she says, softly enough so that Trudie won’t hear. Darlene doesn’t have time to reply.

“Dominique!” Trudie shrieks happily, her voice light and joyful, the kind of voice that Darlene can never imagine sounding angry. The opposite of Magda, Darlene thinks.

Trudie envelops Dom in a tight hug, squeezing her daughter close to her. “God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s been two weeks, ma.” Dom’s tone hints at sarcasm, but is light and loving still. Trudie pulls back, looks at her.

“Two weeks feels like two years for a mother. Trust me.” Trudie lets her arms fall from Dom’s shoulders, and finally turns her attention to Darlene and Elliot. Darlene takes a deep breath, tries not to lose her shit.

“And you must be Darlene!” Again, Trudie’s voice is light, almost musical. Before Darlene knows it, she’s being pulled into a hug, one that’s tighter than any parent she’s ever met has given her. She startles for a second, in shock, before returning the hug awkwardly. “Oh, Dominique has told me so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you for ages, but this one—“ she tilts her head towards Dom—“insisted that I had to wait.”

Dom rolls her eyes. “ _Ma_. Seriously.”

Trudie pulls back, looks at her daughter again. “Jeez, Dominique, I’m messing with you. I’m just excited to finally meet your girlfriend. Look at how beautiful she is!” Trudie’s smile is wide, love for her daughter and for anyone who brings Dom happiness evident in her eyes.

(Darlene tries not to show it, but happiness courses through her body at the word ‘ _girlfriend’_ , making it hard to fight back a smile.)

Trudie turns to Elliot now, gives him a broad smile. “Elliot, right?” she says, clearly knowing already that it’s him. She pulls him into a hug that Elliot returns faster than Darlene would have expected. “It’s great to meet you both. Come on in!” She turns, begins leading them into the kitchen, which Darlene notes smells of some sort of mouth-watering food. Maybe normal Christmas celebrations aren’t that bad.

“Now, what’s mine is yours. You guys are family now, and you better act like it.” Darlene doesn’t think Trudie’s tone ever loses its kindness. Even the last statement makes Darlene feel at ease.

“Gotcha,” she says, as lightly as she can. Trudie smiles at the three of them.

“Now, I gotta go finish the potatoes. Dominique, I trust you’ll make our guests feel comfortable?”

Dom smiles. “Of course, ma.”

Trudie grins, walks away towards the stove. Dom sighs. “Sorry about her. I know she can be a bit…much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Darlene says, a smile spreading across her face.

“She’s sweet,” Elliot adds, and Darlene notices that he’s grinning, too.

Darlene grabs Dom’s hand again, squeezes it. “Come on. I wanna meet the rest of them.”

Dom takes a deep, almost anxious breath. She nods quickly before pulling her towards the living room, and Darlene realizes that somehow, her nerves have disappeared.

……………………..

The Dipierro’s Christmas tree is beautiful, Darlene thinks. She’s never really seen a nice tree—she used to have a small fake one that she would stuff in the corner, put a shitty star on top of, and forget about. Theirs is vastly different—a real tree, decorated with ornaments and string lights, healthy and vibrant and beautiful. Darlene is strangely mesmerized by it.

She’s sitting on the floor, Dom and Elliot on either side of her. She leans her head on Dom’s shoulder, nuzzles into her, squeezes her hand, unsure if it’s the wine or the woman next to her making her feel so warm. Probably both.

Darlene closes her eyes for a minute, basking in this feeling, as though she’s glowing inside. When she opens them, she sees that Trudie, along with Dom’s aunts and uncles, are passing out gifts from under the tree. Everyone seems so excited, so happy, so together. She looks over at Elliot, and smiles at him. How did they end up here, surrounded by a family, comfortable in an environment so vastly different to what they’re used to?

Darlene feels Dom nudge her shoulder, and looks over. In Dom’s hand, there is a small box that she’s holding out to Darlene. Darlene gives her a quizzical look, confused.

Dom sighs, smiles. “It’s for you.”

Darlene’s eyes widen, her confusion growing more visible. “I—what?”

Dom laughs, the sound light, musical, euphoric. “I wanted to get you a little something. For your first Christmas.”

Darlene’s body courses with warmth at the words—it is, in a sense, her first Christmas, or at the very least her first normal one. She reaches out slowly and takes the box from Dom’s hands. She looks up at Dom for permission. “Open it,” Dom insists.

Darlene focuses her attention on the gift, opening it with care, as though the box will somehow fall apart and this will all be a dream. Inside the box, Darlene finds two things—a ring, simple but beautiful, a gold band with the words “Merry Christmas” engraved on it. Darlene laughs at the cheesiness—she wouldn’t have expected anything else from Dom.

Next to the ring is a small lollipop—one of the ones she always sees Dom with, and always pokes fun at her for. A smile breaks out on her face, this little piece of Dom given to her.

She slips the ring on her finger, admires it, thinks that maybe Christmas clothes and accessories aren’t the _worst_ part about capitalism.

Something catches her eye—a small piece of paper folded up at the bottom of the box. She grabs it and slowly unfolds the page.

_Merry Christmas. Thank you for helping me let go, and for being here when I got back. I love you._

Darlene’s heart stops—they haven’t said I love you yet, not out loud, not anywhere. She takes a shaky breath—she isn’t nervous, isn’t overwhelmed, only feels happiness, happiness that she’s never felt before, never thought she would feel, never thought even existed. She reads it again, and again, and again, making sure it’s real. After a few long moments, she looks up at Dom, whose face is shy, nervous, vulnerable. She opens her mouth to say something.

“How does everyone like the gifts?” Trudie’s voice booms through the room, and Darlene turns her attention to her, averting her gaze from Dom. “Dominique, what did you get your girlfriend?”

Before Dom can reply, Darlene holds out her hand, shows Trudie the ring there. Trudie’s face falls into shock.

“Oh my _god_ , Dominique—“

“Ma. It’s not an engagement ring.”

Trudie’s face goes back to normal, and she sighs. “Well, maybe next Christmas,” she says jokingly, winks at Dom. Darlene laughs as Dom buries her face in her hands.

Trudie walks away, leaving them alone again. Darlene slings an arm around Dom, buries her face in her neck again, clutches on to her tight. She brings her lips to Dom’s ear, and whispers into it, so softly that she knows no one else will hear.

“I love you, too.”

She knows Dom is smiling without having to look, her cheeks probably reddening like they always do when Darlene compliments her. Darlene pulls back and looks into her eyes, giving Dom a soft smile, one she doesn’t think she’s ever given anyone else, one that used to feel foreign to her.

She hears the sound of the kids running around, showing each other the gifts they got. Darlene doesn’t look away.


End file.
